


Invitation

by fandumbandflummery



Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking & Talking, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, this is such a tease I am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/pseuds/fandumbandflummery
Summary: Fenn looked back and forth between the two, less out of indecision and more to verify that they were not playing the cruelest practical joke in history. Or that he was hallucinating from a combination of heat-stroke and alcohol poisoning.





	Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> An old prompt fic that I forgot to crosspost earlier. 
> 
> I might continue this when I get the time/inspiration - I feel like I owe Fenn for an enjoyable sexy experience after what I did in the last fic with him in it.

“- and at the end of it all he gave him the disk! With the blood on it and everything! And when he rolled away tracking gore down the hall and whistling like it was the most normal fucking thing in the world - I think we gave Zeb nightmares for weeks about what that tin can does in his spare time!"

Fenn paused in his wheezing laughter at Kanan’s latest tale of Chopper Being Chopper just long enough to take another shot off the bottle, before passing it back to Kanan. Oh, Yavin IV was a bug-infested sweatbox and he’d gotten sun burned within five minutes of shrugging the top half of his jumpsuit and armor off in the heat. However, anything was tolerable with good company and a gallon-jug of high-proof tihaar. Especially when said company was in favour of dealing with a base-wide climate-control system failure by sitting on the floor of their valiant little ship and getting wasted.

Hera groaned, flopping rather indelicately on her back between the two men, her bared lekku spread out behind her head against the deck plate of the Ghost, and waved the bottle off when Kanan offered it to her in turn.

“M'good, love. Honestly, for all that we’re fighting for our lives and the freedom of the galaxy and all that, its nice t'put all that aside and just sit n' drink n' talk like *normal* adults once in a while,” she sighed, turning to look up to the ceiling, squinting at one of Sabine's cruder sketches of Kanan kicking the Emperor in the ass. 

“Normal adults living in an ancient cursed temple serving as an insurgency HQ,” Kanan muttered, taking another swig, “and becoming the galaxy’s most half-assed nudists when everyone's climate controls fail.” 

“Mhm,” the Mandalorian grunted, motioning for the bottle again.

Fenn figured he could be forgiven for distractedly eyeing Hera’s chest out of the corner of his eye as he drank deep - her tank top was VERY thin and he’d had no idea she was so…bouncy under the heavy flight suit she normally wore. Ever since she’d forgiven him for the attempt on her life that served as their formal introduction, he had been nursing something of a crush on the Twilek. Her piloting skills alone would’ve been enough to stoke the proverbial engines, but coupled with commanding ways and her considerable good looks…while he’d never intrude on his own terms on what Hera and Kanan shared, Fenn figured he could still get away with a look or two. He was a Mandalorian, and his kind didn’t really do things by half, be it blood feuds or smouldering physical longing.

“Would that you could stay longer, Fenn,” she murmured, turning to look up at him with her deep green eyes, heavy-lidded and languorous and okay, there was no way she wouldn’t have noticed him looking at her tits at this angle. Fenn felt himself reddening in the face for reasons beyond his sunburn. 

“We’re gonna miss you so much when you go back to Mandallia.”

“Well, you know. Kyr'amla Squadron need me to lead ‘em. They’re brave and willin’ and all but so young, nothing but ik'aade,” he muttered. Hera sighed again, stretching her arms and body in such a way that forced Fenn to concentrate on scratching a painful insect bite on his head before his kad embarrassed him in front of his friends. 

“S'too bad - we could use you here too. Not just for flying, but for company.”

“Don’t encourage him, Hera love,” Kanan chuckled, reaching over Hera to half-heartedly punch the Mando in the shoulder. 

“He’d end up sleeping at the foot of our bunk before long.” 

Fenn nearly fell over from the nudge, baring his teeth in a mock-snarl at the bearded man. He rubbed the spot where his fist had hit shoulder, not entirely theatrically - Fenn knew Kanan was strong, and that he definitely knew how to use that strength in combat. And Fenn would freely admit that he admired and maybe crushed on the man a little for it. But as with Hera’s cleavage, the full glory of the powerful, muscular body normally hidden under Kanan’s collection of well-worn sweaters had been a mystery until now. Less of a mystery was the pinkness of his lips and tongue as he lapped spillage off the neck of the bottle…

“Well suppose we do want that,” Hera said, quietly.

“Eh?” Fenn grunted.

“Love?”

Hera turned her head towards Kanan - more accurately, towards his ass as it partly peeked out the back of his pants.

“You know what I mean, Kanan - we talked about it before, and I know you want it too.”

“ 'Course I do! But how ‘bout what he thinks?” He gestured towards Fenn with the half-empty bottle.

“A'ight, can y'just tell me what in haran you two shabla’ di'kuts are talking about?” he snapped, a little harshly.

“Mmh. Did anyone ever tell you how damn sexy you sound when you talk in Mando?” Hera said huskily. She sat up, arms braced behind her back in such a way that emphasized her chest and revealed a tantalizing sliver of bright green skin between her low-slung shorts and the hem of her top. Fenn swallowed loudly.

“I’m going to be very blunt - Fenn, do you want to share our bed tonight in the fullest sense of the word?”

“We mean the sexy sense,” Kanan added, quite unnecessarily.

Fenn looked back and forth between the two, less out of indecision and more to verify that they were not playing the cruelest practical joke in history. Or that he was hallucinating from a combination of heat-stroke and alcohol poisoning.

“Oh no, sweetheart, I think we broke his brain,” Hera whispered loudly.

“What? No! I mean, Yes!” Fenn stammered, scrubbing his hands down his face, “fuck it, fuck yes. Yes let’s fuck. All three of us. Right now.”

It wasn’t he smoothest way to accept a threesome with two gorgeous, brave people but it must’ve been good enough for the pair, because suddenly the two were *very* close and the tihaar bottle was nowhere to be found.

Kanan's heavy arms wrapped around his back and shoulders, pulling him flush forward against the larger man’s body. Meanwhile Hera’s arms wound around his waist from behind, her cool, slender hands inveigling their way under the belt of his half-removed jumpsuit, just to where his hips angled downward to more interesting places.

“Great. So - Top, middle, or bottom?” Kanan purred against Fenn’s ear.


End file.
